What They Seem
by ShineBright
Summary: A new case. A new challenge. An old fear. MSR, but not all fluff
1. Chapter 1

a/n of course I don't own anything X-Files related, the characters, plots, everything…everything is theirs. This is just some good non profit fun.

Spoilers: Set in season 6, so anything before then

MSR (yeah buddy!) but done in a non corny fluffy way.

**What They Seem**

Scully could hardly keep her eyes open. She was so tired that when Mulder brought up the idea the suspect had been abducted, she couldn't even raise her eyebrow up at him. Sinking lower in the seat, she squirmed out of her coat and set it on top of her. One good thing about having Mulder as a partner was his insomnia, a great trait for stake outs that aloud her to sleep.

That was till his elbow connected to her ribcage.

He was an insomniac that liked to talk.

"Mulderrr, can't you see I'm trying to take a nap?"

"Exactly. We're on a stake-out. I'm getting bored."

"Just because we're not watching for someone who eats livers or something? Wake me if something important happens."

Mulder chunked a soggy sunflower seed in her direction, but as her eyes were closed, his act went unnoticed. Sighing, he settled his eyes on the third floor window of the apartment complex they were watching, waiting for a light to come on. He was bored. In three months not a single X-File had come along. To get away from the paperwork, he had volunteered to help out the VCU by tracking down some murderer. An average murderer who used a gun instead of mind control. Who broke in through a window instead of squeezing through vents…All very blah.

Even though Scully would never admit it, she was equally bored. Equally ready for a real mystery to come a long.

She was asleep wasn't she? In fact, he began to feel a sudden amount of weight on his shoulder. Her head, and entire body had slumped over onto him. For a moment he considered setting her upright again, knowing had she awoken when slumped against him she'd become all awkward…But if she woke up while being pushed off, no doubt her feelings would get hurt.

Great Mulder…What to do now?

Instead of taking action, he ran his fingers gently through her hair, twirling the ends around his fingers. Not that he'd ever admit it, but maybe there was another reason for accepting this assignment…a reason other than avoiding paperwork…Mulder mentally chastised himself and pulled his fingers away from her hair and gripped the steering wheel.

This was Scully. His partner. His partner that trusted him enough to fall asleep next to him, knowing that nothing would happen, that she was safe. And trust was one thing Mulder never jeopardized. Their whole relationship was based on trust and respect.

He even managed to respect her as drool began to dampen his coat.

And honestly he wouldn't have woken her up, but the lights turned on in apartment 324.

"Scully, Scully wake up my drooling little friend."

One eye opened, then another. She saw that she was leaning against Mulder, but instead of pushing off right away like he suspected, her head rested on his shoulder for a moment longer.

"I do not drool."

"Then can you scientifically explain the presence of a watery substance on my shoulder?"

"Alien phenomenon," Scully teased as she sat up straight and pushed stray strands of hair away from her face, "Oooh the light's on."

"Precisely why I woke you up. Our suspect's alliiiveee."

In response to Mulder's Frankenstein impression, Scully got out of the car and closed the door behind her.

"It wasn't that bad," he murmured as they made their way up the flight of stairs.

Mulder led the way down the third floor corridor, but both had their guns ready. Safety catches off.

"Think he returned to the scene of the crime?" she whispered, "No units saw him…How'd he get in?"

"What if he never left?"

Three days earlier Joanna Swenson had been stabbed to death, and even though the crime scene had been cleaned and closed off, neighbors had been reporting the blinds opening, closing, lights going on and off…Hearing footsteps…Rumors had been swirling around, was it a ghost? A murderer?

Mulder even admitted that it hadn't been a ghost. After looking up Swenson's biography and interviewing neighbors, he learned she was the religious, sweet, gentle type. Not someone to come back and senselessly scare her neighbors.

"You mean…When crews were up there, photographing, taking pictures, dusting, he was watching? From where Mulder? The ceiling?"

"Ceiling…Interesting, we'll have it checked for adhesives and claw marks. But maybe something more mundane, Scully…Try not to be so out there."

He stopped talking, but only long enough to smile at her as she rolled her eyes.

"It's possible he found a place to hide in…A trash receptacle, laundry shoot, maybe somewhere even as obvious as under the bed. What's more important is why he's sticking around. Does he get a laugh at watching the investigating crews? Is there some sick connection that he gets a thrill when lingering around the site of the murder?"

"Mulder…Maybe it's only some homeless person that sneaks in and out…through a fire escape, or your laundry shoot. Don't you think the FBI would have looked under the bed?"

"That was an example. But just go with it, Scully."

For a moment they sniffed around the apartment with timid glances at each other, making sure they were safe. Their guns rested against their hips, held only by one hand. As Mulder dusted the blinds for prints, Scully stuck her finger in a mug of coffee.

"It's hot. Come dust this, too," she muttered as she studied her reddened finger, "Mulder…Mulder, it's too hot. It must have just been brewed."

Without speaking, they communicated with a curt nod and drew their guns up. Shuffling closer together, they edged toward the entrance. It was Scully who turned to open the door as Mulder remained on alert. She gave the knob a good, hard twist, but there was little evidence of her effort.

"Scully, what's wrong?"

"It's locked. But Mulder, we never locked it, and I…I," She tried to unlock it, but nothing gave. Finally she resorted to jiggling the handle with an intensity that bordered on panic, "can't even unlock it…Like its glued shut or someone's holding it from the other side."

Yet there was no one on the other side of the peep hole.

She rested a forlorn palm against the door, "And…and it's a little hot."

Mulder took his turn battling the door, but remained equally unsuccessful. Beaten, the agents leaned against the door, bodies tensed, ready to respond to any stimulus. He looked down at Scully, who's eyes were wide, but her breathing remained even, masking the fear that she must have felt. The fear he felt. Once again he had put her in the path of danger…and if anything happened to her…Mulder swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

"If he's holding the door shut…Then we're safe in here right?" Scully said, holstering her gun, "And it's not like he can sit there and hold it forever. Arm's bound to get tired."

"You're right," he said with a false hint of levity, "Wonder if they paid the cable bill."

"I doubt it. AC sure didn't get paid off."

Scully wiped away the beads of sweat that had begun to spread across her hairline and dot her upper lip. In fact, she took off her coat and draped it across her arm. About the same time, Mulder noticed himself beginning to sweat, beginning to think it was odd that they had been cooler earlier. Beginning to think things were going from bad to worse.

But for the moment, he took off his coat as well and undid the first few buttons of his shirt and ripped off his tie. Scully was following suit this time and undid her top few buttons. He couldn't help but smile.

"Oh, Scully,"

"Shut up Mulder."

And that's when he saw it, he saw it when he was still smiling, still thinking of her undone shirt buttons.

"Uh…Scully."

And that's when he stopped smiling.

4


	2. Chapter 2

a/n still don't own anything X-Files related, lol. And thank you for all the wonderful reviews! They keep me writing!

**Chapter 2**

The putridity of the gasoline stung his nostrils at the same time orange strips of light reflected off window panes. Fire. The apartment was on fire. Fire. His brain could hardly register it.

Scully on the other hand had noticed the smell first, and by the time Mulder had even opened his mouth she was banging on the door yelling for help. She noticed her cries were being interrupted by coughs, gaggings. Smoke. Racing for a window, she tripped over the couch but stumbled back up and made it to the window only to find it welded shut.

"It's-arrrug-wired…Sealed shut," Mulder yelled as he strained every muscle in his body trying to open another window, "There all going to be like this."

"The door," Scully breathed, leaning against the wall for support, "Must have been sealed shut as well."

"We'll be fine, Scully."

"Never said we weren't. In fact…If it was welded shut, we may have a chance," She ran a finger along a strip of a brassy hardened substance that looked like it once had the consistency of glue, "The window was sealed shut by melting brass against another metal, when brass melts it can

produce a glue-provided someone adds," she paused a moment as she coughed, but began again, even though her voice was much breathier, "… Provided someone adds flux. Once the brass cools it returns to a gluey state, and the door could be easily pried open."

Mulder stared at her. All his behavior profiling experience never came in handy when it came to Scully.

"Mulder?"

"Yeah…Yeah…So we set our own fire? Are you sure, Scully?"

"Get the matches from the kitchen."

Taking that as a yes, he got down on his knees and crawled toward the kitchen, slightly closer to the fire that was ripping through the bedrooms. To his surprise, Scully followed, crawling behind him.

"Enjoying the view, Scully?"

She chose to ignore the comment and crawled on till they reached the kitchen where she began soaking kitchen rags. Oh, and yes, she had enjoyed the view.

Mulder, still wearing his leering smile, pulled out matches from a drawer.

"Let's start a fire, Scully."

"Shut up, Mulder," she said, this time smiling, shoving a damp cloth over his lips, "And this time I'm serious. We don't need to be victims of smoke inhalation."

She placed another cloth over her own mouth, and this time she crawled back first, leaving Mulder to trail behind her. He was still smiling behind his washcloth.

Amazingly the plan had worked. Both agents had made it out of the building unscarred. As suspected, the brass had melted away into a waxy composite and the door had been successfully crashed down. But, if the plan had worked, gone off without a single hitch, then why was Scully still staring up at the windows of apartment 324? She was leaning against an ambulance, too tired to stand, ignoring the doctor who was cuffing her arm for blood pressure tests. Something was amiss.

Her idea to melt free the door was a long stretch. She hadn't expected it to work; she just wanted to be doing something before flames engulfed her. Going out fighting. Or at least fighting till Mulder had thought of something else.

"Mulder," she mused, though he was no where in site, "Something's wrong."

And with those few softly spoken words he was magically at her side with a warm hand resting on her shoulder.

"You feeling okay? You look pale."

"It's not adding up. If I was right, right that it was welded shut, then how did it get welded? Clearly it had to me an amateur job, otherwise there wouldn't have been much flux left and we wouldn't have been able to remove the door…"

"Scully, we're alive. Can you stop over-analyzing this? We got lucky."

"But we walked in through the door! We got into the apartment."

"…So the murderer must have been there all along. Luring us in. Crap."

For a moment they let it sink in that they were truly dealing with a psychopath. One who was smart enough to almost trap FBI special agents. More particularly, two agents that were considered to be geniuses.

Scully nodded as the medic gave her a clean bill of health. The young doctor's mouth began pouring out random sequences of consonants and vowels, but all fell deaf on Scully's ears. As the Medic began blushing, looking at the ground, and then fiddling with his thumbs, Mulder realized that he had been trying to ask his partner out on a dinner date.

"She has plans."

And Mulder ungraciously let his hand take up residence on the small of her back and led her away.

"Earth to Scully."

"What?"

"Doctor Waterston seems to have quite a crush on you."

"Huh?"

"Waterson. Madly in love. With you."

"Oh. Right. Excuse me," she muttered as she turned away and started walking aimlessly down the sidewalk.

She missed the utter befuddlement displayed on her partner's face, but that was because her attention was directed somewhere else completely. Directed at something more worrisome than about the fire.

A lump of dread was hanging over her as she placed a finger under her nose. Nothing.

Sighing in relief, she immediately began to chastise herself for being paranoid. But was she? Scully felt eerily familiar symptoms…fatigue, dull aches…particularly one near her sinus cavity. …Nose felt as if it had been pumped up with mucus.

But that could all be from nearly dying in a fire…

Yet…

Had any patient come to her with such symptoms she'd immediately run a full diagnostic screening.

But it couldn't be? Could it?

Timidly, she placed another finger above her top lip. Before pulling it down before her eyes, she drew in a deep, shaky breath.


	3. Chapter 3

a/n still own nothing!

**Chapter 3**

Mulder could only watch as his partner sprinted off, pulling a disappearing act as he often did. Going after her and reading her the riot act would only be hypocritical. At least he did have the satisfaction of knowing that she was heading the opposite direction from hormonal medic boy.

But where had she been going?

The next three minutes were hardest for him as he let his fingers tickle over the speed dial button on his phone that would summon Scully. In his mind he could perfectly envision the conversation:

_"Scully."_

_"Scully, it's me."_

_"Mulder, what's going on?"_

_"Just wondering if you're okay. You left in quite a hurry."_

_"I'm fine, Mulder."_

And then she'd hang up, even though her voice would have been all strained and terse. It was a safe game to bet on that any phone call to her would have been fruitless. Getting information from Scully about how she was feeling was tantamount to interviewing a stubborn teenager. How was school? Fine. You're friends at school? Fine. How was work? Fine.

Mulder smiled to himself as he tried to conjure up a picture of an adolescent Dana Scully. All he could make out was a large book bag and a very worn library card carried by a short figure with red hair.

Scully was smart. She's okay, Mulder thought, and then finally pocketed his cell phone.

Watch check: She had left four minutes ago.

"Excuse me, you FBI right?"

Mulder turned from his thoughts and toward the gangly man that had addressed him.

"Yes, can I help you?"

"I knew Joanna. Nice girl. Really sweet. I live next door to her."

"Sorry about the fire."

"Aw, nuh, they got it controlled real quick. I just missed the last bit of Jeopardy, but I'll see who wins tomorrow."

"Mr…"

"Higgings. JuJu Higgins."

"Mr. Higgins, is there a reason you wanted to know I was FBI?"

"Sure is. They say to report anything sus-pih-shous. And I sure got a story for yeah."

I sure attract the kooks, Mulder thought, but nonetheless offered to treat JuJu to a coffee at the near by diner.

JuJu led him down the block to what looked like a building that should have been condemned in the 1950's, but it was close and apparently still had electricity. Plumbing might have been a stretch, however.

Inside, Mulder chose a canned pop while JuJu proved braver as he ordered a mug of black coffee.

"Now, Mr. FBI man…"

"Call me Agent Mulder," he suggested as he slid into a booth.

"Alright, Agent Mulder, what's your biggest fear?"

"The usual…loosing someone close to me, I suppose. Why?"

"Mine's falling down the stairs. And just yesterday, it happened. It happens every day, and I can't stop it."

Mulder was actually at a loss for words. Instead of talking, he gulped down his soda, trying to mask the sudden bout of inarticulacy. Was this man for real?

"Joanna was scared of…"

"Look," the agent began, finally able to piece together his thoughts, "Why are you telling me all this? Want me to petition to bring in an elevator? I can't. I can't even get them to put sunflower seeds in the vending machine at work. You got your free government coffee, now I suggest you go."

The older man twisted his lips into a frown that pulled down the rest of his wrinkled face with it.

"Fine, agent Mulder," he said as he stood up, "But I do know this. You a chicken when it comes to fire. You're scared of fire."

Back at her apartment Scully stared into her bathroom mirror, whishing somehow that it would be a portal to her future and unfold her fate. But only her present face stared back, a face that reflected the past. She let the blood from her nose seep down her face, trailing over her lips and dripping down her chin till it splattered her collar. Tears intermingled with the red fluid and they too stained her skin.

"This can't be happening again. It can't. It just can't be."

She stood there, a good hour, letting the blood cake her face, letting the reality of it sink in. Very possibly she could have stayed there all night, but her phone began to ring. Expecting it to be Mulder, Scully squinted her eyes and squared up her shoulders.

"I'm fine," she whispered, practicing.

But the caller was Bill.

"Scully, I have some bad news."

"What?"

"It's Mom, she had a heart attack…And the prognosis doesn't look good. Can you get down here right away?"

Before she murmured a yes into the receiver, she had buttoned up her trench coat and wrapped a scarf around her neck.

Thirty minutes later, a very pink faced Dana Scully arrived at the hospital. She wasn't pink from the blood, but from how roughly she scrubbed herself clean. Though, at a time when her mother was hooked up to more machines than she could count, her coloring didn't really matter. Bill certainly didn't notice as he wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder.

"She's in and out, Scully…Charlie's on his way."

Her father. Her sister. Now her mother. Now herself. Scully could hardly stand as her knees began to shake. Weakly, she slid into a chair and curled herself up in it. Bill kept his eyes on his mother as she dabbed at her nose with a tissue.

"I'm going to call Mulder."

"Why? What's he got to do with this? Don't tell me he caused this, because I will go down there and kill that sorry son-"

"No, no, he had nothing to do with this," she folded her trench coat over her lap, "He needs to know that I'll be off the case for a while. And I think he would like to visit. Despite what you may think, Bill. He greatly respects our mother, and would never hurt anyone."

Bill only shrugged and re-entered their mother's ICU unit. Since only one person at a time was admitted in, Scully didn't bother to move other than to pull out her cell and dial Mulder. For her it was hard not to smile in relief when he answered on the first ring.

"Mulder."

"Get down here, please, just…just get down here I-" her words broke off as soon as she realized that she was about to tell him how much she needed him. That wasn't what she had planned to say at all. 'Mulder it's me' was all that she had expected. The wall she carefully kept up and maintained had begun to waver. Perhaps the ice queen was beginning to melt.

She sighed. He deserved to know, after all they've been through, after all they've seen; he deserved to know her final truth.

4


	4. Chapter 4

**a/n still own nothing.**

**Sorry it's been so long for an update, so I decided to make this one very long. And very intense.**

**Chapter Four**

"Mulder, I need you."

Mulder could only breathe into the phone. She needed him. And she actually admitted it out loud. Stuck somewhere between worry and relief, he tried to finish out their conversation normally. Without stuttering or long pauses from fantasies of having her in his arms. The relief stemmed from the actualization that Scully was as reliant on him as he was on her; however, the worry was from why she had admitted this just now.

Had she gotten sick from all the smoke? Was she in a car accident?

"Mulder? You still there?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm here. But what's going on?"

"Mom had a heart attack."

Mulder let out a sign of relief but then instantly wished that he could suck it back in. Margaret Scully was a kind woman who acted more motherly than his own.

"Oh, Scully, I'll be right there."

And he was, right there. No more than fifteen minutes later he had Scully in his arms, hushing her thank yous for coming.

Finally, she pulled away, and straitened up, telling him everything that had happened to her mother with a clinical detachment so cold that one would never suspect that she was the daughter of that woman. Mulder knew however, that it was her way of coping with seeing her mother in a hospital bed, though he did fear that coping could turn into denial.

"I see they're doing everything they can for your mother."

Scully's eyes met his at the mention of her mother, and she just nodded. She new it was his way of reminding her that her mother was more than another case file. More than a system of ventricles and arteries.

"They are. But I just can't leave till I know that she's going to make it," she said, knowing that Mulder's next statement would be telling her to go home and get some rest.

And it was what he wanted to tell her; she looked like she belonged in a hospital bed right beside her mother's, and if it wasn't for Bill coming out of Margaret's room, he just might have told her as much.

"I'm going home," Bill said, darting a sour look at Mulder, "I'm going to get some overnight things for her. But I'll be back soon to relieve you."

Scully merely folded her arms across her chest and nodded. As Bill left, she sighed and watched Mulder stare into her mother's room. Soon he'd be watching her being strapped up to machines. Being poked, prodded, baked by radiation. Exhausted, weak.

He deserved to be warned. Warned so that he could run away, go home, leave her and all the pain she'd cause those around her.

"M-Mulder…"

But he turned to her with those big puffy dog eyes and a sad smile.

"It's okay, Scully. I'm here. Why don't you sit down and take a nap? I promise to wake you up if anything happens."

Gently he guided her to the bench and sat so her head could easily rest on his shoulder.

"Thank you, Mulder," she murmured thickly as her body numbed as sleep overtook her.

Tired. Weak. Too tired to tell him now, but she planned to in the near future.

Five hours later, Mulder collapsed onto his couch, too exhausted to change into anything. His tie and the top buttons on his shirt were already undone and mangled; his suit was stained with tears and black streaks of Scully's mascara. That didn't matter to him.

What did matter to him was that after a good solid nap, Scully had awoken to hear the good news that her mother was in stable condition. It was nice to see a smile finally spread across her face, even better to be hugged tightly by her.

As Mulder sank into a rare deep sleep, Scully lie awake. Her mother was improving. That was a plus. But there were too many negatives adding up in her life to allow her to fall asleep. Guilt from not confiding to Mulder. Or Bill. Or Charlie. Guilt from not telling Mulder that she loved him.

Rolling over on her side, she began to think of making a living will, or maybe starting writing a journal again, writing to the ones she'd leave behind.

It wasn't fair.

It just wasn't.

She wanted a family. A house in the suburbs. A dog. A cat. A white picket fence. A life. She wanted the type of days where her biggest worries were about what color to paint the dining room, or what to feed her guests.

She wanted to spend time with friends that she had been estranged from, detailing to them her adventures. What she had seen.

She wanted time. But more than that, she just wanted acceptance. A way to accept her cancer without leaving her clammy and cold.

A way to tell Mulder.

Scully didn't how to tell Mulder. Not a word in her vocabulary could explain to him what she was going through. Saying "I have cancer…again" didn't seem like enough. Every way, no matter how direct, seemed as though it was a euphemism. Sugar coating the truth.

Showing him was the only way.

Knocking on the door, tissue in hand, Scully breathed in a deep breath. Mulder came to the door with a smile despite the fact his teeth were blue from toothpaste.

"Hold on," he said, closing the door behind her. After spitting in the kitchen sink, he turned curiously to Scully who was sitting at the breakfast table.

"Hungry? Want something?"

"I'm good."

"How's your Mom?" he asked, sitting beside her so close that their knees were touching.

"Good. Charlie called earlier. She'll make a full recovery."

"That's great."

"It is."

"Is there…ah, another reason for you coming by so early? Other than to check on my dental hygiene?"

"Umm…Yes. Yes there is."

"What?"

Scully's face suddenly looked pained. How was she supposed to show him? Her nose didn't bleed on cue, it's not like she had tried to practice fainting on cue…but before she completely lost her senses, her hand gripped her tissue harder. Her bloody tissue. Gently she unfolded it and laid it out in front of her.

Mulder looked from the Kleenex to her, and back to the Kleenex. Why on earth was she showing him this? Was it part of a case? Did it need to be bagged for evidence?

"Mulder…It's happening again, all over. Like before. Just like before…" Her voice broke and she buried her face into her hands, letting her shoulders shake as she gave into sobbing. How she hated crying; it made her weaker.

Normally, it would have been proper to take her in his arms and offer her words of encouragement, but it was all he could do to stay seated and upright. Gingerly, he fingered the clean ends of the tissue, and slowly his gentle touches turned to rough, ripping motions turning the tissue into a fine, white powder. If he could have gotten his hands on the cancer, that's what he would have done, but he couldn't. In this, he was utterly useless.

"Oh, Scully…"

"Don't…Don't…Let's regroup," she dried the tears from her eyes, glowering at her tears, "I was fine for a while last time. I'm not dying right now. Not this second," she whispered, "I'm going home. Charlie's staying there. I need to tell him. Then Bill."

Truthfully, Mulder didn't want to be alone, but he let her go. Truthfully Scully couldn't face Mulder who now had tears in his eyes.

"Of course. But tell me if…if anything happens."

"I will Mulder, if you promise me that when I do call, that you don't pity me. Don't baby me. Just be Mulder. Be there for me, like you've always been. A good, strong, steady support. I'll need that."

"I promise."

Though as he said those words, a single tear spilled from his eye.

The phone call came too soon. Only a week later. It was day time. Mulder was flipping through channels on the TV. Saturday morning cartoons seemed to be his final viewing choice. Just as Bugs bunny dodged Sammity Sam's bullet the phone rang.

"Mulder."

"Mulder…Mulder it's me. It got worse, but I'm okay for now. Just under observation at the hospital."

"What happened?"

"I just lost a lot of blood last night. I came in just to make sure I didn't go into shock. But I am doing okay right now, so don't…"

Her reassurances were lost on him as he scrambled around throwing on his socks and shoes.

Walking through a hospital was never pleasant. First of all there were the smells-astringent, Lysol, plastics…Then came the sounds of monitors and life giving machines coupled with sobs from the "next of kin" huddled in the waiting room. Every hospital was the essentially same, down to the nurses in fading scrubs with their feet clad in white sneakers who's soles stuck to the newly mopped floor and peeled off making a "smmuck" sound every time they stepped. It was clean. White. Bare.

Yet, hospitals were always so full of one thing: emotion.

The hopeful, the relived, the sad, the dying…

Mulder stopped in front of Scully's door. The bureau had sprung for a private room. A rare occurrence, most likely resulting from respect for Scully.

"Mulder? What are you doing standing outside?"

"N-nothing. Just making sure you wanted visitors."

"I want them. Specially when they bring me flowers. Why don't you put them with the others by the closet?"

He was about to apologize for not bringing any with him, but then his hands suddenly felt the cool stickiness of cellophane wrap. Cellophane that ensconced a bouquet of red roses.

"They're beautiful. Thank you," Scully said as she watched him put them up, "I was worried you were going to be bring me a giant alien head balloon."

"I was, but they don't come in grey."

Smiling, something he didn't think he could ever do again; he made his way to her bedside.

His eyes reflected every feeling he ever had for her. Every wish he had for their future. Full of intensity, he leaned down, and studied her face. She was pale. Tired. Frightened. And it killed him that this time there was nothing he could do for her, there had only been one vial for her cure, and it had been used.

He had saved her from the alien virus. From Tooms, from psychos, but could not save her from herself. From what was in her.

Now time was something he didn't have. A luxury he couldn't afford. The days he could spend staring at Scully, arguing with her, teasing…they were fading away like a wilting flower.

This time, he would tell her. Swallowing the lump in his throat, running his fingers through his hair, biting his lip, teetering on the balls of his feet, he finally got the courage from her questioning face.

"Scully," he croaked, "I lo-"

"No Mulder."

After stumbling a step back, and after a moment of terrified silence, he spoke again, this time in a steady voice.

"Just let me tell you. Even if you don't feel the same. I wanted to tell you last time, so badly, and I chickened out. Scully, I lo-"

"No, no, no! Don't say it Mulder…Please don't go on…"

Her voiced trailed off as her heart broke into pieces. Scully had always known that he loved her, from the way his hand trailed to the small of back, the way he leaned down when talking to her, making her seem like the only person in his world, and finally to the way his hazel eyes caressed her every time he looked at her. His eyes were always tender and loving, even during a spat.

They were staring at her now, pleading, demanding an explanation. Demanding that she disprove his panicked theory that perhaps she didn't reciprocate those feelings. If only he knew just how deep her feelings for him ran. So deep that she couldn't fathom leaving him behind a broken man.

This was the way it had to be.

"Mulder," she whispered, "Don't say it. Don't say it to me. I'm dying, and this time there's not going to be some miracle cure. Say it to someone else, someone who's going to be able to live out the rest of your days with you. Don't waste it on me; don't waste it on a memory. And please Mulder…Don't make leaving you any harder than it already is."

"Scully," he said, her name gently rolling off his tongue, "There could never be anyone else."

"Come on, Mulder, I mean, you're looking for proof of extra terrestrials…I think finding someone else, someone else to love you, take care of you, won't be that hard. You're easy to care for, Mulder, like taking in a lost puppy dog. Don't let me die thinking that you're going to remain all alone."

The words were killing her, as much as the cancer was. Imagining him with another woman tore at her, ripping free the memories of Bambi, Diana, Phoebe. The wounds of jealousy were still fresh. Though her words were true, they didn't say everything she wanted to. She wanted to tell him how handsome he was, how she loved his tall, lanky stature…How she loved the way he chewed at his lip, his brooding intellect. But in telling him to move on, she had lost the right to those words. They belonged to someone else…Someone else probably named Candy, she thought with a bitter taste in her mouth.

"So that's it? You're giving up on yourself? Succumbing to your disease? You survived once, you can do it again."

"No, Mulder, I can't. You're cure bought me two more wonderful years, and I'm grateful. It gave me time to strengthen my faith…This time I think I'm ready," she said in a steady voice, till her last words that came as a whisper.

A pall of silence spread between them. A wall, separating the living from the dead.

Only after Mulder settled himself in a rickety, ill formed plastic chair did any noise come into the room. And that was only because he stubbed his toe and let out a stream of swears.

"But, Scully," he began again, "You are continuing treatment here, right?"

More silence.

And by Mulder's silence, she knew that he had learned the answer.

8


End file.
